


I'm Heading Straight For The Castle

by like_a_stray



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frank is a Prince, Historical Inaccuracy, I made up my own universe, M/M, Wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_a_stray/pseuds/like_a_stray
Summary: Frank Iero hates being a prince.He wants to be treated like a normal person. He wants to be able to act like other boys his age. He doesn't want people to bow at the sight of him and call him "My Prince."Gerard Way comes from a very poor family. His parents are struggling to feed him and his younger brother, so they decide to sell him to the Kingdom for a large sum of money.He is assigned as Frank's personal servant and is terrified to face the new world that he's been thrust headfirst into.





	I'm Heading Straight For The Castle

❀Gerard's POV❀

I was sobbing and reaching for my parents. They couldn't do this. They couldn't sell me. "Please. Please don't do this!" I pleaded. Two tall, muscular men were dragging me away from my family and they just stood and watched. My parents stood with stoic expressions but my smaller brother Michael was sobbing.

I was slapped harshly by one of the men, my cheek burning as I flinched away. "You don't have permission to speak." He snapped. They stopped dragging me for a moment and placed a cream-colored rag into my mouth, tying it tightly around the back of my head.

My hands were placed into rusty metal cuffs and my arms were pulled behind me at an uncomfortable angle.

"And stop crying. King Franklin will reject you if you show weakness and then you will spend the rest of your worthless life in the whorehouse." The man snapped at me, slapping me again.

I nodded and the men pulled me up the stairs of an elegant black and red carriage. The coachmen glared at me once we were sat on the padded black seat, me in the middle of the two men. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to climb trees with Michael and run through the prairies and make flower crowns from the wildflowers there.

I picked at the small tear in my beige trousers, holding back the onslaught of tears that were ready to flow from my eyes. I heard the whip crack and the carriage started to move forward.

We came to a stop a short while later and I was dragged out of the carriage. I whimpered and a knife was pressed against my cheek. "Make another sound and I will cut you." The man hissed. I couldn't help the small whimper that came from the back of my throat. My cheek was slashed into deeply, the skin breaking and blood beginning to trickle out.

"A-ah!" I let out a choked sound, my hand flying up to my face and cupping my stinging cheek.

The black metal gates in front of us opened and I was dragged through them and into the castle. I was pulled and shoved up a long flight of stairs until we came to a room with a door made of dark wood. One of the men knocked on the door and a voice from inside the room called, "Come in."

The door opened and I was shoved inside. I stood in front of the large, silver throne where The King was sitting, his hands folded in his lap as he looked down at me.

"On your knees, little whore." The man who dragged me in growled. I did what I was told and kneeled, bowing my head and crossing my hands behind my back. I had seen servants do this before and I didn't want to be hurt anymore.

"I've brought you the new servant, King Franklin." The man said.

The King smiled down at me. His smile wasn't genuine. There was something evilly disturbing about it, and it made a shiver run up my spine. "Thank you for bringing him. Take the cuffs and gag off of him." He ordered. The two men untied the gag and unlocked the cuffs. "You are dismissed." He said. They nodded and dispersed.

The King sighed. "Maria, clean him up and bring him back to me." He said. A young girl in a plain black peasant dress stepped forward and helped me up. She was very thin but surprisingly strong. She held my hand and led me into a white, pristine bathroom. She sat me down in a porcelain bathtub before leaving. She returned a few moments later holding two large buckets of what I presumed to be water. She went back a few times, bringing more water in.

She went to the vanity and grabbed a needle and some thin, white thread and a bottle. She poured some of the bottle's contents onto a small rag before walking over to me and pressing it against the cut. I hissed in pain as it burned my cut. She pulled the rag away from my face before threading the needle and pressing it against my skin. I shut my eyes tightly as she stitched up my wound, the feeling of the needle piercing my skin and the thread pulling the wound together made me cringe. She finally finished, tying the thread and cutting it.

"Should I undress?" I asked. She nodded once. I began to strip, unbuttoning my shirt first before moving to my trousers. I didn't feel self-conscious about this. The girl was young and obviously had no intention of judging me. Once I was fully undressed, she poured the water into the tub. It was warm and felt nice against my skin. She began to pour some soap onto a cloth and scrubbed it against my skin, the dirt and grime getting removed. The soap smelled nice, like roses and hyacinths.

I allowed the girl to wash my hair with the same soap before she poured expensive oils over my head and massaged it into my scalp.

It felt nice to be clean. I usually bathed once every week on Saturdays in a cold metal tub with scentless brown soap.

She rinsed the oil out of my hair with some fresh water, gently massaging my hair. She was being very gentle with me, her hands small and soft. She took my hand again after a few moments and I stood up. She took a fluffy white towel from a hook on the wall and began to dry me off.

She gestured for me to get out of the tub and I did so. She left the bathroom and I heard her talking softly with The King, her voice quiet and polite. I couldn't make out their words but I could differentiate their voices.

She returned holding a small bundle of clothes. She dressed me quickly in the thin, soft fabric. It was a loose, blood-red colored shirt with long cuffed sleeves and a pair of black denim pants. The clothing hugged my thin legs and torso nicely. They loved the color black in this kingdom. I adored it as well. It was so dark; so mysterious, but also beautiful and elegant. Red was also practically worshipped. I liked the color red as well. It was quite intimate but full of anger and passion. The girl took my hand again and led me out into the room we had come into before.

I saw the King standing, holding a strange tool and a white rag. "Come here." He ordered, gesturing to a wooden chair next to him. I walked to the chair and sat down nervously. The sleeve of my shirt was rolled up to my elbow and my arm was wiped with the rag. Another servant came rushing over and placed some sort of a stencil onto my inner forearm. The King began to press the tool into my skin and I let out a loud scream of pain.

I was being tattooed. The Kingdom tattooed their symbol on every servant, chef, and anyone else who worked in the castle. Even the young children had tattoos. The several needles pressing the dark ink into my skin felt like torture. I was absolutely horrified of needles, and the amount of them that I had faced today was absurd.

The King finished in what seemed like an eternity later, ripping the stencil off of my stinging skin and wiping it with the white rag again. The same servant who had placed the stencil on me came over again and rubbed a type of cream onto my new tattoo before wrapping with a white bandage. My sleeve was rolled back down and the King gestured for me to stand.

"Maria, bring him up to meet my son." The King ordered. She nodded and began to gently pull me up another long flight of stairs. We reached the top quickly and she knocked softly on a dark wooden door with carvings engraved into it.

"Yes?" I heard someone ask from inside. "It's Maria. I've brought your new servant." She spoke. "Okay. Bring her in." The person called.

Maria opened the door and bowed before speaking. "The servant is not a girl, Frankie." I felt horrified about the casual way Maria was addressing the Prince. I glanced up at him. He was sat at a desk, a quill pen in his hands and a small bottle of black ink on his polished desk. He was wearing a black shirt with a tight collar and tight cuffs around his wrists. The shirt was embroidered with silver thread on the sides, cuffs, and collar. He had on a pair of tight black pants and shiny black boots. A blood-red colored cloak with silver and black embroideries on it adorned his back. I knelt the way I had done before, my head bowed. I was terrified but didn't dare to show it.

"That's quite alright. You may stand up." The Prince said. I did so but kept my hands crossed and my head bowed.

"What's that on your cheek?" He asked, standing up and walking towards me. "I misbehaved and was cut by a guard," I answered softly. He sighed. "It's barbaric what they do to the poor servants. Maria, you may go. I would like to speak to him alone." I heard her walk out of the room and close the door behind her.

"Come to sit. You look exhausted." The Prince said, his voice gentler than it had been previously. He gestured to a wooden chair next to his bed. I did as he asked and sat down, making sure my head stayed bowed. "What's your name?" He asked. "Gerard, M-master," I mumbled. I knew that the King grew angry if his servants did not address him as Master at all times and I presumed the Prince was the same way. I was still baffled by the fact that Maria had addressed him in such a friendly, casual manner. "Let me see you for a moment. You don't have to keep your head bowed."

I lifted my head and met his eyes. The Prince was extremely attractive, his hair a dark brown, his skin tanned and marked with ink. He looked concerned, his brow slightly furrowed. "Where did they get you from?" He murmured, reaching towards me and gently brushing his fingertips along my uninjured cheek. "My parents sold me," I answered. He gasped. "Your parents sold you? That's horrific." He said. "I suppose," I replied.

I saw his jaw clench. "They sold their own child for money. It's horrible. You're what, nineteen years?" He asked. "I'm seventeen, Master," I answered.

"You're so young. Poor thing," He cooed softly. I felt tears suddenly form in my eyes. "I just want to go home," I choked out, my throat suddenly feeling very tight.

"Oh, darling. I'm sorry." He said, caressing my cheek again. I felt a sob building in my throat and it erupted from my lips. "I'm sorry, Master." I stuttered out.

"You don't have to apologize. It's alright. And just call me Frank," He said. I nodded and felt tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. I just wanted to go home. I heard Frank sigh. "I will show you your new room. Come with me." He held his hand out for me to take and I did. His tattooed fingers gently curled around mine, his fingertips calloused but his hands soft and warm. He led me out of his room, bringing me down a few stairs and into a small room. There was a bed covered with white sheets and a plain wardrobe. I didn't hate it. It looked better than what I had at home.

"I'm sorry that it's a bit bland. If it were my choice, I would allow the servants to decorate their own bedrooms, but, alas, I am just a Prince." His voice developed a more dramatic tone at the end of his statement, a small smile growing on his face. "Anyway, there are clothes in the wardrobe and if you need anything you can ask me." He gently touched my shoulder. "I'll let you get settled in. Maria will come to gather you for dinner." He turned and walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

I turned to look at the room once more. I walked over to the bed, gently pressing my hand against the mattress. It was soft and plush and I knew it would feel like heaven when I was sleeping. The wardrobe was filled with shirts and pants matching the ones I had on currently. There were also some night clothes, which I was fortunate for. I wondered briefly how they knew my size of clothing, but remembered nearly every boy in the lower class was short and scrawny like myself. We were almost always born prematurely because our mothers didn't have the proper medicine when they were pregnant, making us shorter than the average person. Frank was quite short himself, yet he was a tad bit taller than me.

I really wanted my drawing pad. I was going to miss the book dearly, the sketches I had spent hours on were sitting underneath my old bed. I would never get them back. The rest of my life would be spent as a servant. I whined softly and sat down on the bed. I didn't want this, no matter how kind the Prince was being to me. I wanted to go home. I would run away with Michael and we would start a life for ourselves. I fell back onto the plush mattress, burying my face in the pillow. I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted but not wanting to sleep.

A while later, there was a soft knock on my door. "Come in." I croaked. The door opened and Maria came in. "It's time for dinner. Come with me." She said, holding her hand out to me. I took it and she led me down the stairs and into a kitchen. There were several other people there, sitting in a circle and talking. There was a large pot in the middle of them and they each held wooden bowls and spoons.

"Everyone, this is Gerard," Maria said. The people directed their gazes towards me and I blushed. The room had gone completely silent.

"Aw, he's adorable!" A man with brown, messy hair said, setting his bowl down and standing up. "I'm Ryan. That's Patrick, Andy, Joe, Dallon, Tyler, and Hayley. The three little ones are Haven, Thomas, and James." He said, gesturing to several different people.

"Hello." I greeted shyly. Maria smiled up at me. "Come. We have stew and bread." She said, handing me a bowl. There was a small gap in the circle that I sat in, beginning to eat. The stew was delicious, chunks of tender beef, carrots, and potatoes along with soft bread that I could dip in the flavorful broth. I hadn't had a real meal like this for so long. We used to eat stale, hard bread with thin, watery butter. I ate quickly, trying to be as neat as possible while doing so. The others had begun to talk and laugh again and I felt out of place.

There was suddenly a loud pound on the door. "Line up, whores." The person growled. It sounded male and extremely rough and scratchy. I glanced up and saw the King, looking furious. The others instantly stood up, discarding their food and tossing the bowls and spoons into a bucket. They all lined up obediently and I did the same, not kneeling but bowing my head and crossing my hands. Someone walked in, their boots clicking softly on the wooden floors. "Now... one of you stole a garment from my wife... a beloved cloak of hers... whoever did it, step forward now." The man said, his voice low and threatening. I heard nobody walk. "Whoever did it, step forward or you will all spend a week in the cellar." He snapped. Still, nobody stepped forward.

I could feel panic building in my chest. The cellar? What was that? Some kind of sick torture chamber? Nobody moved, and I heard a sword unsheathing. A cold, sharp piece of metal was pressed to my forehead. "Was it you, boy?" He asked. "N-no, sir," I answered quietly.

"Hm, I can't trust you yet, boy. I suspect that you're lying, so that's a week in the cellar for you at... hm, I'll say two. You'll confess eventually." He murmured. I felt my heart plummet. No. This couldn't be happening. It was only my first day! I didn't know what was going on. I was confused and scared and-

"Father!" I heard running footsteps approaching the kitchen. "Don't do anything rash," I looked up to see Frank, holding a piece of dark purple cloth in his hands. "I took it. I needed to study it for my art project. Please don't punish any of them." He said, giving the cloth to his father. The King slapped him hard and gripped his chin, locking eyes with the younger man. Frank pulled away, rubbing his cheek.

"I'm walking Gerard back to his room." He said, walking towards me and taking my hand. "The rest of you may return to eating." The other servants went back to sitting, their voices hushed and worried.

I followed after Frank, keeping my head down and shoulders hunched slightly. I could feel myself trembling with fear as The Prince led me back to my room, his grip on my hand tight. I was terrified. Was the Prince angry? What if he punished me? I'd heard of the horrible punishments that servants received. They would be whipped, publicly humiliated, and in some cases, touched without their consent by several men. Frank pushed the door to my room open before closing it again.

"You're trembling," He said softly, turning towards me. His eyes were soft and concerned, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows creased. "I just... I'm scared." I whined pathetically. "Of what?" He asked. "I've heard that... that if a servant messes up that they get punished..." I answered. "And I don't want to get hurt, o-or..." I didn't finish my sentence, burying my face in my hands as a whimper clawed its way up through my throat.

Frank put his hand on my back and began to gently caress it with his palm. "It is true. My father gives horrible punishments. He almost gave you one for doing nothing." He said. "What is the cellar? And what did he mean by when he said 'at two'?" I asked. Frank sighed and sat down on my bed, patting the spot next to him for me to sit next to.

"The cellar is, well... a cellar. But as a punishment, you're tied up for however long my father sees fit. You get whipped and beaten and depending on the level, the number he gave you is your 'level.' One being light punishment, ten being almost killed. If the level is anything past five, then my father allows his men to come and.." The Prince trailed off, running his fingers through his dark hair and tugging in what I presumed to be frustration. "He allows his men to touch you. It's horrible and once I become king the practice will be diminished completely."

"Oh..." I whispered. "And I've begged him to stop. Pleaded on my knees for him to end the torture. But I can't do anything about it." He murmured, tugging his hair again. "I will try with all of my power to make sure that you aren't getting hurt. You're the newest servant and are still getting used to your surroundings." The Prince reassured.

"Also, I have forgotten to explain what you're here to do. You will be my personal servant. You're supposed to dress and bathe me, but I can bathe myself and I may only need help with dressing myself from time to time." He explained and I felt myself relax slightly.

"You should get some rest. It's been a long day for you and I don't want you to be tired tomorrow." He said, standing up from my bed before turning to stoke my hair a bit.

"Goodnight, Gerard." He murmured.

"Goodnight, Prince."


End file.
